


The Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

by bastardvibes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu, also they’re both stupid, atsumu is good at math, atsumu is so whipped, i just, i wanted Atsumu to be utterly and thoroughly kissed, misophonic omi... bc of reasons, so is omi, they are equal amounts whipped for each other, they are so gay and so very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardvibes/pseuds/bastardvibes
Summary: “If not for my fondness I would have obliterated you without hesitation,” Kiyoomi tells him, flipping over so that they’re stomach to stomach, pressing a kiss into Atsumu’s jaw.“Yeah, yeah, saved by my charm once again, I get it.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 242





	The Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

The thing Atsumu enjoys most about living with his boyfriend so far are the mornings they spend together. Their routines don’t exactly match up so to speak but there’s something so inherently intimate in the way they make it work. Atsumu wakes up to Kiyoomi sleeping half on top of him, a mop of black curls resting on his chest. He likes to pull on them gently and watch them spring back to their shape. Kiyoomi grumbles quietly, grabbing Atsumu’s hand and squeezing weakly.  
“You awake now, Omi-kun?”  


“It’s our off day, why would you do this to me?” Kiyoomi mutters in his husky morning voice.  


“You woke up on yer own!” Atsumu insists. Kiyoomi lifts his head to glare at him, hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” Omi rolls his eyes and eventually shifts off of Atsumu, stretching his back in an arc while his bones pop and crackle loudly in response. He smirks when Atsumu grimaces at the noises, before slipping out of bed and putting a dark green hoodie and grey joggers on. Atsumu watches him disappear down the hall before letting out a sigh and reluctantly leaving the warmth and comfort of their bed. He’ll never understand how Kiyoomi isn’t an early riser like Atsumu is but can just… get up when he’s awake.  


He finds Kiyoomi in the kitchen starting some tea and looking out the window over the sink.  
“Whatcha’ lookin’ at Omi-Omi?”Atsumu asks, hugging the taller man from behind.  


“It snowed.” Kiyoomi explains quietly. Atsumu’s eyes fly open and he moves to his side, staring out at the blanket of snow covering the streets and tops of buildings. He can’t help but grin joyfully.  


“Guess jogging’s out of the question today,” Atsumu says, “unless yer keen on runnin’ on some ice and fallin’ on yer ass.” He watches Kiyoomi scrunch his nose at that, letting out an irritated noise.  


“Don’t start bein’ pissy yet, it’s too early fer that right now.” Atsumu tells him.  


“Get out of the kitchen,” Kiyoomi replies.  


“What? It’s my kitchen too!”  


“Go.”  


“No way!” Is all Atsumu can say before he’s being slung over Omi’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His nose brushes Kiyoomi’s back and he squirms, attempting to wriggle out of his hold.  


“Omi-kun,” Atsumu growls, “put me the fuck down, I’m not a child!”  


“Then stop acting like one.”  


“Omiii,” he whines, squirming more, “stop manhandling me, that’s my job!”  


“Stop wiggling or I’ll drop you, brat.” Kiyoomi says, walking them into the living room. He drops Atsumu unceremoniously onto their couch and then leaves again, probably to make breakfast. Despite his warnings, after about fifteen minutes pass Atsumu goes back into the kitchen to find Omi making what looks like omelettes. He purposefully hovers near the other, criticizing the amount of salt and pepper he puts onto the cooking food before Omi gets fed up, gently grabs Atsumu by the throat and threatens to break his neck if he keeps nagging.  


“I wonder what the gods think of how often you threaten to murder me.” Atsumu ponders aloud, sitting on the counter.  


“No gods are watching us, I assure you.” Kiyoomi replies, using a spatula to place the omelettes on separate plates. He hands Atsumu one with a kiss to his temple before sitting down on one of the stools next to him. They eat with music playing to drown out their chewing since Omi has misophonia and finish their breakfast quickly. Kiyoomi begins his daily yoga while Atsumu goes about browsing twitter and bullying Osamu.  
Eventually though, he gets distracted by his boyfriend’s languid flexibility and elegant stretches and gets lost in simply watching. Omi sinks back into child’s pose and then moves forward, descending into a cobra roll, chest hovering just over the floor as he shifts his weight into his palms and then bends his back into an impossibly beautiful arch, leaning his head back and exposing his mole-dotted throat. 

When he goes into a plank Atsumu sneaks behind and then lays directly on top of him.  
“Fuck-” Omi puffs out, collapsing onto the floor from all the weight.  


“How are you not sweaty!?” Atsumu exclaims, face pressed into the other’s nape.  


“Oh my fucking god,” Kiyoomi grumbles, before planting his palms down and raising himself in a push up.  


“Oh! Big strong man, huh?” Atsumu grins as he’s lifted up.  


“Yeah,” he catches a smirk on his boyfriend’s face before he goes into downward dog and Atsumu’s face is suddenly facing the ground and he has to latch desperately onto Kiyoomi’s waist and hips with his limbs so that he doesn’t fall forwards.  


“Holy shit! Okay, okay! I learned my lesson Omi-kun, chill!” Omi laughs breathlessly and slowly lets him down. Atsumu doesn’t even get a chance to climb off before Omi is rolling onto his back, successfully laying on top of the setter.  


“If not for my fondness I would have obliterated you without hesitation,” Kiyoomi tells him, flipping over so that they’re stomach to stomach, pressing a kiss into Atsumu’s jaw.  


“Yeah, yeah, saved by my charm once again, I get it.” Atsumu agrees, hugging Omi’s broad shoulders and burying his nose into glossy black curls. They stay cuddling on the yoga mat for a while before Kiyoomi braces himself over Atsumu with his hands and looks down at him.  


“I still need to stretch my hip flexors, wanna help?”  


“Do I ever!” Atsumu cheers, “always happy to stretch out my boyfriend.”  


“Your wording is not subtle,” Kiyoomi tells him, “and certainly not funny either.” 

Atsumu (somehow) manages to convince Kiyoomi to come outside to play in the snow with him.  


“We’re not playing.” Omi corrects him and then takes a snowball to the shoulder.  


“Play with me!” Atsumu yells, kicking snow at him.  


“You’re a child,” Kiyoomi tells him with great fondness, “a wretched child, that’s what you are.”  


“That’s what my ma calls me too!” The setter replies, grinning hard when Kiyoomi lets himself be pushed around while Atsumu keeps bullying him. People really don’t realize just how much Kiyoomi lets him get away with. Finally, Kiyoomi takes a stand and grabs some snow to shove down Atsumu’s shirt. He laughs brightly at Atsumu’s shriek and undignified flailing, dimples pressing into his cheeks. People don’t realize just how much Atsumu lets Kiyoomi get away with too- just to see those dimples.  


“Yer real evil Omi-Omi, y’know that? Warn a guy before ya go puttin’ snow on his boobs!” Atsumu scolds light-heartedly.  


“I hate when you call them that.” Omi replies with a scrunched nose. Atsumu tastes mischief in the air.  


“What? My honkers? My massive milkers?” Atsumu continues, continuing even as Kiyoomi starts pushing him around.  


“Shut up!”  


“My badongadongs? My bongos! My hubbabubbas! My dinga-lingas!” Atsumu says through the mouthful of snow that the spiker shoves in his mouth. He swallows the melting snow and cackles at Kiyoomi’s disgusted scowl.  


“You shouldn’t eat snow, it’s unhealthy. There’s probably smoke and fumes and exhaust from the air where the water’s been recycled.”  


“Okay, but counterpoint: it’s yummy in my tummy.” Atsumu points out.  


“It’s solidified water and air.” Kiyoomi deadpans.  


“Geez, ya go to college once and suddenly yer a whole dictionary and encyclopedia,” Atsumu scoffs, “I went to school too Omi-kun. I know what yer fancy words mean.”  


“‘Fancy words’- you mean the fucking water cycle? You’re saying a description of the fucking water cycle is fancy words?” Kiyoomi says in disbelief, his lips threatening to smile.  


“Whatever. You’re stupid. Go away.” Atsumu grumbles, heading back towards their apartment.  


“Wait wait-” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, wheezing with laughter, “i’m sorry.” Atsumu ignores him, even as the sound of boots hitting snow come closer. Kiyoomi gets in front, blocking Atsumu’s path as he glares at the other.  


“I’m sorry Atsumu-kun,” Kiyoomi says, still grinning, clearly amused, he pulls Atsumu into a hug and muffles his laugh into his bleached hair. Atsumu doesn’t hug him back, stubborn as ever. Kiyoomi sways them back and forth dramatically, kissing Atsumu all over his cold-reddened cheeks and laughing through every kiss.  
“My poor baby,” Kiyoomi coos, ruffling his air, “my poor little boyfriend, so blonde, so dumb.”  


“Yer patronizin’ me.” Atsumu mutters, but finally wraps his arms around the other.  


“Hey, at least you’re good at math though right? I suck ass at it. Leave the language to me and i’ll leave the math to you.” Kiyoomi says. Atsumu considers this, he supposes it does balance out.  


“Fine,” Atsumu says, pulling away, “but let’s get outta here before I freeze my damn balls off.” Kiyoomi links their arms together, kissing Atsumu’s cold cheek as they head home. After drinking some hot tea to combat whatever cold has settled into their bones, Atsumu finds himself wanting to give Kiyoomi the gift he’d bought for him two weeks beforehand. It’s a bit stupid maybe… a bit cliche, but at the end of the day so is Omi.  


A necklace. It’s a necklace. It has thin silver chain and a resin pendant with a real pressed plant inside. It’s completely cheesy, but Omi is into that sort of thing. He likes plants, their apartment is filled with them. He likes necklaces too. The thing is, Atsumu’s embarrassed. Kiyoomi always gets him stuff for no reason at all other than “It reminded me of you” or “It looked like something you’d like”, which is so ugh. He’s right every time of course, he knows Atsumu’s tastes well.  


It’s not that he’s embarrassed about giving Omi something, it’s more like he’s embarrassed at himself for being so fucking whipped. He saw the stupid little plant necklace in the shop window and immediately went into the store and bought it without a second thought. 

Omi will like this, Omi will smile at this and he’ll wear it and every time I see him wearing it I’ll know that he’s wearing something that I bought him because I love him so much sometimes I wanna cry like a little bitch.  
Okay, he’s overthinking this for sure, he just needs to give it to Omi. Just rip off the bandaid or whatever the saying is. He pulls the little necklace box out of the dresser where he hid it and lingers outside the kitchen where Kiyoomi is finishing up cleaning their tea mugs in the sink.  


“Omi,” he calls softly, “I got somethin’ fer you.”  


“Yeah? What is it?” Omi turns to look at him and suddenly Atsumu panics because??? Well he doesn’t know to be honest be he panics okay?  


“My cock,” Atsumu replies weakly. Kiyoomi stares at him, blinking slowly.  


“And this too I guess…” Atsumu presents the small flat box. Kiyoomi’s dark eyes sparkle with interest and he walks over to take it from Atsumu’s slightly shaking (why are they shaking??) hands. He opens the box and looks at the necklace, then back at Atsumu who’s feeling all sorts of nervous and vulnerable.  


“A resin plant necklace,” Kiyoomi says, “you got this for me?” And why isn’t he reacting? Why isn’t he smiling or anything? What is going on? Oh god Atsumu you dumb bitch you fucked up somehow.  


“W-” he licks his lips, “well, yeah I- I thought you’d like it ‘cause yer always wearing all those necklaces all the time and ya like plants a lot and y’know it’s like a combination of both so- I dunno. I dunno. I just- I dunno. It’s whatever. It’s cool if you don’t like it I can just take it back.” Kiyoomi stares at him blankly, before gently setting the box down on the counter and stalking towards him like a murderous lion. 

Atsumu takes a step back, a bit intimidated but then Omi’s ducking down to wrap his arms around Atsumu’s hips and lifts him up to spin him around twice before kissing him stupid. He sets him down with the same gentleness he treated the necklace with and then pushes him toward the nearest wall. Atsumu lets Kiyoomi basically ravish him, arms clinging around Omi’s neck and running his hands through his curls.  


Slowly, Kiyoomi slides his hand up the front of Atsumu’s throat and squeezes just enough to threaten pressure. Atsumu shudders at the feeling, eyelids fluttering closed as Kiyoomi’s hand glides behind his neck before his thumb hooks on Atsumu’s earlobe. The grip of his hand is firm, strong, holding Atsumu’s head still as his body shivers pleasantly. He kisses Atsumu slowly, languidly, coaxing his lips open and deepening the kiss with a tongue that Atsumu welcomes oh so kindly. He loses himself in the demanding touch of his lover, lets Kiyoomi do whatever he wants to him because Atsumu would do anything just to keep this dance going.  


But suddenly Kiyoomi’s pulling away and Atsumu can’t do anything but stare dumbly up at him, kiss-drunk and dazed like a deer in headlights. Omi’s hand is still holding Atsumu in place against the wall and his thumb flicks his earlobe gently, regarding the blonde with those obsidian black eyes like he’s a painting in an art museum.  


“Thank you,” Kiyoomi says before letting go of the back of Atsumu’s neck and walking away casually as if he didn’t just ravage Atsumu’s mouth only a moment ago. Atsumu is left there blushing furiously, skin tingling and head still feeling cloudy and light. Literally kissed stupid.  


“WHAT THE FUCK KIYOOMI!” Atsumu yells suddenly, chasing after him, following the resounding laugh that comes in reply.

Later, when Atsumu’s properly fucked out and dozing on Omi’s chest, his mole-dotted neck sporting the new necklace, Atsumu figures he should have given it to Kiyoomi a lot sooner. A lot sooner. He’s so fucking whipped, but it’s Sakusa Kiyoomi so it doesn’t matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Listne,,,, listen to me... they are so in love ok?? i love two stupid idiots named Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi. 
> 
> You can follow me on my Twitter @kyokentarooo for more of?? Me???


End file.
